


Recovery

by orphan_account



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 21:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20880959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dr. Jake Coolice begins his first year of residency in St. Francis. As he adjusts to his homecoming, things begin to feel out of the ordinary. He teams up with a newcomer magician, a latecomer lapsed agent and friends to discover what force has taken hold of Kepler.Can't end The Adventure Zone: Amnesty if you turn it into a slow burn horror story.Anyway, I'm pretending it's 2012 and psychiatric hospital AUs are still a thing, but I hope it's respectful as much as it is enjoyable. I'll try to avoid edginess, but be ready for some angst. All that to say: it is a hospital AU with supernatural elements.





	1. Chapter 1

Dr. Madeline Cobb was otherwise occupied. While she preferred speaking with patients and getting face-to-face value, her supervisor role came with the caveat of more bureaucratic bullshit and mediocrity. She twirled a heavy wooden pen in her hand and hummed, padding out her notes for a call later that day.

“Dr. Cobb,” a soft voice came from the door.

She raised her head to see the newest resident standing with a nervous gate. His blond hair stuck out in tufts, and he wrangled his hands.

“Dr. Coolice, come in.” She typed at her computer a little to finish the task at hand before her mind obliterated it in her next action.

“Hi, how’s your day?” His nerves stuck out in every word.

“It is going really well. But I prefer it when people are forward. How can I help?”

Jake Coolice took a moment and stood at attention. “I wanted your professional opinion. I have a conflict of interest.”

Madeline turned from her computer, her dark brown eyes cooly surveying the young doctor.

“I um. I knew them. I knew them for a long time, and we were part of sports teams together in Kepler High. We were close. Not that we had a falling out. I just, this is not the place to do that rekindling.”

“The joys of homecoming.” Madeline laughed and played with her pen a bit. “What is the name?”

“Hollis.”

Madeline made a note. “There is a new patient in suite 2 who is on 1:1. I will have Dr. Barclay switch with you for the next few hours while I figure out an arrangement. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. But in all honesty, we are short staffed, and this ward is small, so I imagine you two will interact. Just make sure you are respectful.”

Jake sighed and nodded, “Of course, Dr. Cobb. I’ll go tell Dr. Barclay.” He left the room with the distinct impression that she was unimpressed by him. He found the door open, revealing Barclay watching over the woman with a professionally soft gaze. Noticing his gaze, Barclay turned to Jake and said, “Good afternoon, Dr. Coolice. I assume I am leaving Miss Little to your capable hands.”

“Yeah,” Jake winced at his own abrasiveness, but Barclay only nodded and collected his things.

“See you later, Ms. Little,” he smiled and went to his next set of responsibilities.

The young woman had red hair whose roots had grown out, revealing dark brown. She was indiscernible beyond that, as her face was turned away into a pillow. From her lack of response to Barclay, Jake assumed she was asleep or faking.

Jake sat, realizing he had traded himself in for one of the most boring jobs imaginable. To pass time, he used a sheet of paper to write, jotting down random observations.

After an hour of scribbling, the woman said without moving, “Am I that interesting?”

“My apologies if I seem to have lost my manners. I was just passing time.”

She gave no indication of a response.

“How do you pass the time, Ms. Little?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Have you been living on your own?”

She made a motion that made the bedsheet crinkle which Jake took to signify a nod.

“That’s a danger with depression. When we’re alone, we can sometimes fail to stimulate our brains. When we let that happen, we let depression consume us. What do you think of when you’re trying not to think?”

She was quiet for a moment. A patient air filled the room, the contemplative silence running like a current of warm sand over exposed soles. “I think of magic.”

“Magic?” Jake sat forward, a smile taking up his face.

“I’m a magician.” She suddenly seemed to catch herself, her words getting further away as she moved toward fatigue.

Jake let the quiet fill the room again, no longer writing. Instead, he let the young woman rest in the still air. Stimulation would ebb and flow in recovery.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a Puerto Rican from Connecticut. Aubrey is a Puerto Rican from Connecticut. Ned was originally described as having a Connecticut accent. This one's for me. Okay?

“It was the 15th of November, 1988--”

“Please, please. I’m begging you, man.” A man in his early 40s with greying hair said. “If Eugene doesn’t stop, I’ll stop him.”

“Mr. Newton,” Barclay held the bridge of his nose in his hands. “Don’t threaten other patients. When you are about to say something, I want you to think, ‘Is this something Barcaly can hear?’”

“Yeah, well, Barclay, you should hear it because I have to, and it’s driving me up a wall. I just need my own room.”

“This is not a permanent situation, Duck. You know that as well as I. Dealing with this anger and frustration is part of what makes it even more temporary.” He gave a wry smile. “So stop.”

Duck groaned and went to find a seat in which to read, swinging his legs over the arms of the chair. He heard Eugene rattle on the story to a young woman with bright red hair. He grumbled and thumbed through a fashion magazine that he was certain would never entertain him but could distract him enough to make it seem like it mattered.

The woman gasped along to the story, another patient joining in to the telling, making hype man gestures. By the end, the woman was smiling as he concluded, the aliens banished. The other man gave a punctuation of, “For now!”

“Gone to Jesus, Braxton has,” Eugene finished. “What’s your name?”

“Aubrey, but I go by The Lady Flame.”

The other man gasped, “The arsonist?”

“No, she’s in Chicago.” Aubrey squinted. “No, and I chose the name first.”

Duck talked without looking at her. “And now you’re in Kepler? Convenient.”

Aubrey stuttered, “I’m not. I’m not an arsonist.”

“Just joking.”

Eugene glared at him. “He’s always joking.”

“Yep.” Duck feigned particular interest in the story in front of him until Aubrey got up and stood in front of him. “Yeah, Aubrey?”

“What’s your deal?” She crossed her arms and took a stance that she would not be easily moved from her spot without a few answers.

“It’s a nickname.” He saw her confusion and backed up. “My name is Duck which is a nickname.”

“Wasn’t there a duck the other day who robbed a gas station in Wichita?”

“Well, that one was me, yes.” He laughed and lowered some defenses, his arms slacking to his side as he rested the magazine against his stomach. “Are you from here?”

“No, Connecticut.”

“Oh, I know nothing about them.”

“Nothing too complicated,” she laughed and absent-mindedly brushed her hair behind her ear. “Boston without the personality. New York without everything but the trash. But we have nice scenery.”

“Do you miss it?”

“A lot.” She changed the subject off herself like a strongman throwing a weight. “Are you from here?”

“Born and raised in Kepler.”

“Ms. Lady Flame,” the older man who knew the arsonist in Chicago smiled. “Connecticut? I… I have a dear friend from there.”

“No way! I’m Litchfield County.”

“They’re from Middlesex. Right on the river -- beautiful, nobody there.” When he talked about the retreat, his warm, wrinkled face couldn’t help but produce a melancholic upturn of his lips.

“I love Old Saybrook! We used to hang out by the beaches there near where my grandma was in a home.”

“A nursery home? In Middlesex County, Connecticut. Unheard of.” He let out a boisterous laugh.

Duck stared between the two of them, “Now either this is some insider language or I’m just hearing things.”

Aubrey shrugged. “I dunno. This guy and I were just gonna hit up a package store, the one off the rotary. It’s wicked smart.”

“Take Route 9 to 95 to 98. We need the supplies for the tag sale,” the man nodded before realizing he had blown his cover that he himself was a Nutmegger.

Aubrey didn’t notice the meaningless lie, but she saw Duck grow visibly more distant, no longer smiling. It drove a chill down her spine at how much empathy she gathered.

Duck saw her looking at him with concern and nodded. Panic filled his eyes as he felt his own numbness creeping near.

The old man said, “Ms. Lady Flame, my name is Ned Chicane. I run a museum in town that you might be interested in visiting. It has all sorts of mysterious artifacts.”

“Like the Mothman museum?” Aubrey turned to him, thanking Ned internally for giving her a reason not to fixate on Duck.

“We have artifacts of the Mothman, along with all other sorts of cryptids.”

“I love that stuff. I’ll have to check it out. Yo, did you ever see that Annabelle museum?”

“In Monroe? Of course.” Ned began to sweat a little, remembering the tarot deck in the back of his shop that was certainly his own that he bought for a nominal fee and didn’t take from the precious memory of Ed and Lorraine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Okay? That's all the Connecticut talk there will be... but no promises.


End file.
